Mike Befeler Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series E-Book Box Set: Retirement Homes Are Murder, Living with Your Kids Is Murder, Senior Moments Are Murder, Cruising in Your Eighties Is Murder

Home > Other > Mike Befeler Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series E-Book Box Set: Retirement Homes Are Murder, Living with Your Kids Is Murder, Senior Moments Are Murder, Cruising in Your Eighties Is Murder > Page 38
Mike Befeler Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series E-Book Box Set: Retirement Homes Are Murder, Living with Your Kids Is Murder, Senior Moments Are Murder, Cruising in Your Eighties Is Murder Page 38

by Mike Befeler


  “But he has some very suspicious links to the robbery.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “Not good enough, Detective. My grandfather was only in Colorado two days before the robbery took place. He has no connections with the bank robber.”

  “And besides,” I said. “I don’t need the money. I’m mooching off my son, and my daughter-in-law is keeping me well-fed.”

  Lavino let out a sigh. “You’re free to go for now, Mr. Jacobson. I’m sure we’ll be speaking again soon.”

  As we left the building, I said to Jennifer, “I’m retaining you as my lead attorney.”

  “Cool. I’ll see that you’re cleared of all charges. We’ll start planning your defense tonight.” She gave me another big hug, and I knew I would be well represented.

  Chapter 13

  Back at the old homestead, I discovered the notepad from my foray to the toy store and read the last few entries in my journal, but I couldn’t relax. I paced the room, trying to figure out how I could stay out of Lavino’s clutches. I would end up with an ulcer or dead if this continued.

  I quickly realized why Lavino had brought me in for questioning. I would have done the same. I had passed a marked twenty-dollar bill at a store where the clerk remembered my name because he had played the little joke of asking for my ID. Then I had compounded the problem by showing Lavino another marked twenty-dollar bill at the police station. Not only mentally defective, I had been stupid. And since I had already been seen at the scene of the bank robbery, there could be only one conclusion. I was in cahoots with the robber.

  I needed to clear this up. I searched through my room until I found Lavino’s phone number. Calling, I waited as some brisk-voiced broad tried to track him down. No luck. I slammed the phone down. I’d have to try another time.

  Then I decided to stretch my legs. I needed some time to contemplate my future. As I approached the door, Max, always ready for a walk, jumped up and down to catch my attention. “Sure, boy. You can accompany me on my expedition.”

  The sun had dipped behind the Flatiron rock formation, and a golden lenticular cloud hung in the sky above, resembling a large oval spaceship.

  I mulled over what I should do: how to figure out the two murders, how to clear my name of the litany of miscellaneous charges I had attracted like a magnet sucking up iron filings.

  I hiked until only a faint glow of light remained in the western sky, then retraced my steps. Up ahead a van nestled against the curb, its engine idling. I looked inside from the passenger’s side. No one in the driver’s seat. All of a sudden a man came running up, opened the back and thrust a fir tree inside.

  Something clicked. The tree thief!

  “Hey!” I shouted.

  But the man jumped in the van, stepped on the gas and shot away from the curb.

  In the dim light cast from a nearby street lamp, I caught a view of the license plate.

  “There we go, Max. We’ve found the culprit who sawed down Mr. Fisher’s tree.”

  Back at Denny’s house, I retrieved Detective Lavino’s phone number that I had left out and called again. To my surprise, he answered on the second ring.

  “Detective Lavino, this is Paul Jacobson, your favorite suspect.”

  “You have something new to tell me?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Your confession?”

  I chuckled. “You are a persistent cuss. No, nothing to confess, but I have two leads for you. First, I saw a man load a sawed-off tree in a van a few minutes ago. And here’s the license plate number.” I gave it to him.

  “Let me tell you something I find very interesting, Mr. Jacobson. When we spoke recently you made an obtuse comment concerning not having cut down a tree. Afterwards I checked and, sure enough, a complaint had been filed about you. And now you call to say you saw someone else loading a tree into a van.”

  “Check out the license plate, Detective. Now here’s the second item. I read my journal when I returned home from the nice visit to the police station you sponsored. Guess what I discovered?”

  “With you, Mr. Jacobson, I wouldn’t even venture a guess.”

  “I found where the marked twenty-dollar bills came from.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I received them in change from a toy store on the Pearl Street Mall.”

  “Name of the store?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. I didn’t write it down.”

  “You’ll have to be a little more specific, Mr. Jacobson.”

  “Go check out all the toy stores down there.”

  “We’ll see what we can do.”

  I sighed. “And while we’re talking, I want to follow up on another item.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “This is important. Colorado Mountain Retirement Properties. Detective, this outfit is peddling property that hasn’t even been zoned yet. My granddaughter emailed you an article. Have you busted those crooks yet?”

  “We’re looking into it. You’ve been witness to or implicated in every category of crime except drugs, Mr. Jacobson.”

  “I don’t do drugs. I hate pills, and my brain is already screwed up enough without artificial assistance.”

  “Is there anything else you have for me at this time, Mr. Jacobson?”

  “No. I think I’ve shot my wad for now.”

  After hanging up, feeling satisfied I had done my civic duty, I grabbed my journal and various notes and joined Jennifer in her room to work on my defense.

  When I arrived, Jennifer held up the orange crab. “Oh, Grandpa, it’s so cute. Its face reminds me of something, but I can’t place it.”

  I bit my tongue and didn’t mention her boyfriend Neil Wooten.

  “Consider this a first installment for the legal services you’re performing for me.”

  “Cool.”

  I let Jennifer read selected sections of my diary while I finished reading the entry from the day before.

  “How come you didn’t give me the parts about Marion to read?”

  “That’s private, young lady.”

  “I read the details when you kept a journal in Hawaii . . .” She gave me a smug grin and wagged her finger at me. “I know all about you and Marion.”

  “There are some things best not divulged to a twelve-year-old.”

  Jennifer clicked her tongue. “Come on, Grandpa. I can handle it. And besides, as your attorney, we have no secrets. I’m sworn to keep them to myself.”

  “Fine. Anything relevant to the cases at hand.”

  She gave me one of her winning smiles. “Well, it’s my professional opinion that you and Marion should live together.”

  “That’s a subject we can revisit once you clear me of all charges.”

  “It’s a deal. But I’ll bring it up again then.”

  “Let’s start with you getting me off the hook for the bank robbery.”

  “Okay.” Jennifer swung her head to the side, and her blond ponytail bounced. “It’s obvious that the shop owner who gave you the marked twenty-dollar bills in change committed the bank robbery. We need to find a way to make him confess. Your notes say the owner told you he has no employees.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “I’m going to try something.” She looked up the phone number of the one toy store on the Pearl Street Mall and called from the phone in her room. “Yes, I’m trying to find out if you carry lines of stuffed animals . . . Yes, that’s right . . . And who am I speaking with? . . . Mr. Slade, thank you very much.” She put the receiver down. “There, Grandpa. Mr. Benjamin Slade becomes our prime suspect!”

  “So all we have to do is convince Slade to confess.”

  “Yes. We have to trap him, like you did with that thief at the retirement home in Hawaii.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You and Meyer Ohana set him up, and he went for the bait. We’ll have to try something similar.”

  “I understand. If the guy lusts after money, we dangle something in front of him
that appeals to his greed.”

  “Exactly, Grandpa.”

  “You think it over tonight, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

  When I returned downstairs, Denny sat hunkered down by himself reading a magazine.

  I plopped down next to him. “Catching up on world affairs?”

  He lowered the magazine. “I’m reading an article regarding memory loss.”

  “That’s my field. I’m an expert.”

  Denny frowned. “I know you’ve been through a lot with your memory problems, and I’m concerned I’m facing the same thing. My test results should be back next week.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “It’s crappy to be dealt mush in the brain, but I’m grateful to be healthy and still alive. Let’s see how your tests turn out, and we can discuss what it will mean to you.”

  I returned to my room and mulled over Denny’s concerns. With me as the model of mental acuity, I could understand his worry. If I had watched my father lose his marbles, I would have been anxious too. My father died young, but Denny had this old goat of a dad who couldn’t remember up from down after falling asleep. What a pisser. If he followed my example, at least he’d be around for a good many years.

  I could have wallowed in feeling sorry for my son and myself, but the telephone rang and Denny shouted for me to pick up the phone.

  Who would be calling me? I wondered. Someone from my fan club?

  A pleasant female voice greeted me, “Paul, this is Helen Gleason.”

  “Helen, it’s good to hear from you.”

  “I wanted to let you know that tomorrow night we’re having an old movie night at the Senior Center and thought you might enjoy attending.”

  “Well, I can handle the old part.”

  “I can’t pick you up since I’ve committed to drive a car full of ladies from Meadows Manor, but you can meet me at the center. It starts at seven.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”

  * * * * *

  The next morning after breakfast, Jennifer accompanied me back to my room.

  “We’ll do some more plotting when I get back from swim practice.”

  “I’ll have what’s left of my brain cells ready for action.”

  Jennifer stared at my dresser. “Grandpa, you still have two pictures.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I warned you that it wasn’t a good idea to have pictures of two girlfriends. You should choose one.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If Neal had another girlfriend as well as me, I’d pop him in the nose.”

  I laughed. “I see your point.” I regarded the pictures again, trying to remember either Marion or Helen. Marion and I had a long history together, although I could only recall it from my journal. Both attractive young ladies. “I’m not the kind of guy that plays the field. I really should have only one girlfriend.”

  “Good, Grandpa. And which one will it be?”

  “If you’re going to force me to make a decision, I guess Marion.”

  “You have chosen wisely.” With that she skipped off to get ready for swim practice.

  * * * * *

  After Denny left for work, Allison picked up a Sudoku puzzle to work, so I hunkered down to read a short story. Within half an hour Jennifer barged through the door.

  “What happened to swim practice?” I asked.

  “We had a problem with the pool. The chemicals aren’t right so they closed the pool for the day.”

  “No practice then?”

  “It’s delayed. We’re going to use the pool at the Centennial Community Center in an hour.”

  “Why don’t I walk over with you? I need to stretch my creaky old legs.”

  “Your legs aren’t that creaky, Grandpa. You move very well for a gentleman of your age.”

  “Why thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”

  I donned my tennis shoes, and a little later Jennifer and I ambled off to the Community Center.

  “I’ve been thinking up ways to trap Benjamin Slade, the suspected bank robber,” Jennifer said.

  “What’re your thoughts?”

  “He has the bank money stashed somewhere. He brought some of it out, and that’s how you ended up with two marked twenty-dollar bills.”

  “We need to find a way for him to surface more of the cash and then sic my buddy, Detective Lavino, on him.”

  “Exactly, Grandpa. What would convince him to get a lot of the cash out?”

  “We have to tempt him with something. He needs money, so if we can dangle a deal he can’t refuse under his nose …”

  “I’ve got it! If he could pick up a bunch of rare Beanie Babies for a low price, he could sell them for a high price. I could go into the shop and say I have a valuable collection that I need to unload quickly because my mom is sick and needs the money.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “I have a catalog. I can tabulate a list of expensive Beanie Babies and see what price he offers to buy them for. I’ll tell him I’ll be back the next day with the stuffed animals and need cash. He’ll bring in money from the bank robbery.”

  “That’s crazy enough to work,” I said. “We could leave a message with Detective Lavino to check the cash at the toy store that morning. Then Lavino will see who really stole the money.”

  “And since the detective thinks you’re in cahoots, he’ll find out that Benjamin Slade doesn’t even know you. I’ll think some more while I’m swimming laps, Grandpa.”

  “That’s a good idea for you to noodle on it, but don’t you have to concentrate while you’re swimming?”

  “Nah. I like having something to ponder when I’m doing laps. Races are a different matter. Then I have to concentrate.”

  We arrived at the building, and Jennifer bounded off toward the pool. I sank down onto a bench to watch the kids do their thing in the water. I spotted Jennifer as she adjusted her swim cap and goggles. She waved to me, then dove in and began swimming freestyle behind a line of a dozen kids going back and forth in one lane. Amazing. I swam like an oyster, and my granddaughter zipped along like a salmon.

  When the excitement reached a crescendo, I sauntered outside for some sunshine and to enjoy the view. Rounding the building, I spied a children’s play area replete with a huge sandbox and climbing equipment. Several women sat on a bench, laughing and watching children digging in the sand. At a picnic table under an awning sat a man with thinning white hair overseeing a young boy, probably his grandson, pushing a truck along the sidewalk. As I approached, the man’s head jerked up and his eyes grew wide. “You . . . you . . . you’re the one who sawed down my trees.” He shook his fist at me. “Not one tree but two. And your dog crapped all over my lawn.”

  Uh-oh. This must be Mr. Fisher.

  “Look, Mr. Fisher. I know you’re upset about your trees, but I didn’t saw them down. I can assure you that the police have a lead on who the real culprit is.”

  “How . . . how do you know that?”

  “I saw a man load a tree into a van parked in front of your house.”

  He continued to splutter. “I . . . I think you’re the one.”

  “I guess I can’t change your mind now. Please be patient and have an open mind.”

  I walked away before he had a conniption fit or died of apoplexy. Much like with Detective Lavino, it wouldn’t be easy to convince him of my innocence. Oh well. The challenges faced by a brain-impaired geezer.

  Strolling over to an area with three handball courts, I sat on a bench to watch two young men pound a ball back and forth. They wore jeans and no shirts so their shoulders glistened with sweat in the warm sunlight.

  I thought back to my college days. I had played a little handball then. One of my fraternity brothers had a nickname of Brick, derived from the fact that he stood only a smidgen over five feet tall and almost as wide. He planted himself in the middle of the handball court, and although he didn’t move that well, he allowed no balls by and
placed his shots so his opponent had to scramble like a scared jackrabbit. Good old Brick. Built like the proverbial brick shithouse.

  I leaned back and watched a puff of cloud sail eastward. A hawk circled searching for a mouse in the adjoining field. Kind of like Lavino waiting to pounce on me. I had to think positive. With Jennifer’s assistance, we continued to make inroads on the long list of crimes I had to deal with. If I could only shorten the list before Lavino added any more offenses.

  Standing up, I stretched my arms. I had to count my blessings. I remained free of arthritis and was healthy for an old poop my age. Had to walk and keep those legs in shape.

  I wandered back toward the play area, giving a wide berth so as not to inflame Mr. Fisher again. I noticed that he had nodded off. Seeing me had obviously exhausted him. I strolled down to the pond and halted at the edge to watch some bluegills drifting through the mucky water. Algae had accumulated on the edge of the pond, which dropped off steeply.

  I heard a giggle. Twenty feet away a little boy tottered toward the water. It was Mr. Fisher’s grandson. A duck swam past. The boy reached out toward it, stumbled and splashed into the pond.

  Chapter 14

  The boy flailed in the water.

  Fear gripped me.

  He would drown.

  I saw no one else close by.

  Across the pond in the dog park, a woman screamed.

  My head jerked from side to side. I couldn’t swim any better than the toddler, but I had to do something. I raced over and catapulted into the pond. I sank into water over my head. Bubbles emerged next to me and I grappled in the water, until my hand struck something solid. I felt a T-shirt, grabbed it and lifted the boy out of the water. He spluttered. I gulped a mouthful of muck. With my other hand I paddled toward shore. My head went under. I struggled to hold the boy up while attempting to regain the surface.

  I flailed again, trying to reach the edge of the pond. How could something so close be so far away? My head went under again, but I held the boy above the water. My right foot grazed something. I flinched and kicking, freed my foot from a web of algae.

  I thrust my head up and gulped air again.

 

‹ Prev